Monday, 9 April 2018

Film Ramble: Drowning in Nineties Anime, Pt. 34

I swear, I'm not going to continue theming these posts, if only because no-one actually reads them and they exist purely to give me an excuse to waste my money on ridiculous nineties anime!  I mean, given that scenario, taking the time to come up with actual themes feels like a step too far.

Nevertheless, the last post had one, and purely by accident, so does this.  For your delectation, then, I offer - er, OVAs of an hour or less in length, for lack of a snappier title.  I'd built up quite a stockpile of these, solely for the reasons that a) they exist and b) it's sometimes convenient to have a film at hand that runs to less than an hour.  For those situations where you have less than an hour and you want to watch a film, you see!

Though, since at least two of the releases here are unfinished and another was most probably a pilot for a show that never got picked up, it's safe to say that I've possibly arrived at the wrong solution.  Not to be deterred, this time around we have: Ninja Cadets, Burn Up!, Wild Cardz and Shinesman...

Ninja Cadets, 1996, dir: Eiji Suganuma

I don't know why I was more bothered by Ninja Cadets not finishing its story than I've been by other, frequently better releases, and yet I was: it really did annoy me to get to the second of its two episodes only to discover that here, yet again, was an incomplete OVA that an American publisher had seen fit to sneak out, hoping no-one would notice.  Perhaps its only that, until the last moments, Ninja Cadets seemed like it feasibly could wrap up, if not its wider narrative of warring clans and mystical powers then at least its simple core tale of a bunch of ninja kids passing their entrance exam.

Because, yes, that title is to be taken literally: teenage trainee ninjas is where we're at.  And I confess, I'm down with the idea of teenage trainee ninjas.  It certainly helps that they're a tolerable bunch, despite some rather unpleasant character designs, and that for all their one-note personality flaws, they're extremely capable when it comes to the actual ninja-ing side of things.  Fortunately this makes for a couple of satisfying and imaginative action sequences, which are the absolutely best thing Ninja Cadets has going for it: they're weird and exciting and over the top, and while they're happening, its numerous failings are pushed into the background.

Other than the character designs - which, apart from one of the villains, really are objectionable - those failings include some fairly so-so animation and a score that manages to be anachronistic, boring, and incredibly typical of anime circa 1996 all at the same time.  The English dub is also pretty horrendous; where the hell did this notion that teenage girls in anime have to sound like they're out of their minds on helium ever come from?  But stick with the subs and what you're left with is mostly fine: modestly appealing when the characters are hanging out having comic japes and rather fun once the fighting starts and it's a bunch of ninja kids battling outlandish villains and freakish monsters.  The box description mentions Ninja Scroll, which on the one hand feels like reaching desperately, but on the other is by far the most obvious point of reference: if there was an intention here beyond "Hey, teen ninjas!" it was definitely to create something in the vein of that classic movie, but for a younger audience.

And really, why not?  If Ninja Cadets had wrapped up its story, instead of choosing to end by highlighting a load of loose plot threads, I'd probably give it a cautious thumbs up, at least of the "If you see it going for pennies then you could do worse" variety.  But somehow, all the good will I'd built up by studiously ignore its weaknesses evaporated the moment I discovered I'd have yet another nineties anime cliffhanger haunting me to my grave.  And if my last words on earth are "But ... what happened to Yume?" then you know that Anime Works are to blame.

Burn Up!, 1991, dir: Yasunori Ide

Few questions are more puzzling than the matter of which eighties and nineties anime shows would develop into franchises where so many others fell by the wayside.  Case in point, and perhaps also the most peculiar example, is 1991's forty-five minute OVA Burn Up!  We've already encountered one of its sequels around this parts, in the shape of the somewhat longer 1996 show Burn-Up W, but there would be yet more, two full series' worth in fact, the last of which would arrive as late as 2004.  And though all three iterations have basically the same core characters and essentially the same setup, within those parameters they vary from each wildly.

How all of this sprang from the slip of a thing that is the original Burn Up! is a mystery for the ages.  Not that it's bad; indeed, the animation is rather fine, as signaled early on by an incredibly convoluted shot of the protagonists' cool futuristic car going around a spiraling motorway ramp that's a clear piece of showing off.  There's an impressive attention to detail all through, and the backgrounds especially stand out, not only because they're beautifully painted but because there are some legitimately interesting choices of shots and locations, which carry much of the weight of conveying a just-slightly-near-future setting.  Add to that character designs I'd have sworn were by Kenichi "Gunsmith Cats" Sonoda, though the internet denies it, and an energetic score by the reliable and frequently amazing Kenji Kawai, and you have some thoroughly respectable production values.

But what's all that in service of?  A show that feels an awful lot like an awful lot of others, that's what.  We have three female police officers, and one of them's kind of angry and won't play by the rules, another one is ditzy and the third - um, likes technical stuff, I think?  And like I said, it's the future, though not so much so that you'd really notice, which perhaps only means that Burn Up! did too good a job in its predictions, now that I think.  Anyway, our heroines set out to crack a human trafficking ring, and lots of shooting and exploding ensues, along with a fair bit of sleaziness and bared flesh, though thankfully not quite so much as the DVD case would like you to imagine.

Burn Up! does all of this very well indeed, it has to be said; for what amounts to forty minutes of actual story, it gets the job done and does so with style.  And perhaps the problem, and indeed the answer to my conundrum, is that back in 1991 this seemed a heck of a lot more original than it does now.  After all, much of what I found Burn Up! so reminiscent of - the aforementioned Gunsmith Cats and its spin-off Riding Bean, and especially the much superior You're Under Arrest! - would come later.  If Burn Up! was ahead of the curve then I guess we should applaud it, even if it would subsequently be bettered by its imitators.  And in fairness, it's a perfectly fine, if brief, bit of anime in its own right.  Since, unlike so much of what I review here, it's actually under license and available pretty cheaply, I guess that means a hesitant recommendation.  If you can ignore the short running time and the fact that its formula would be refined in subsequent years, you could do a lot worse.


Wild Cardz, 1999, dir: Yasuchika Nagaoka

I don't claim to know much at all about the intricacies of Japanese culture, and certainly not Japanese culture in the late nineties, but nevertheless I found myself asking within about the first five minutes of Wild Cardz - just who was the intended audience here?  It's at heart a magical girl show, which would suggest girls, but the amount of casual fan service on offer seems to rather rule that out, and though the designs would appear to be aimed at a younger audience, there's a bit of swearing and some weird racism with a Chinese character who speaks in whatever the Japanese equivalent of Engrish would be.  Also, at the risk of sounding immensely dumb, it's a little hard to follow; I mean, it's not Waiting For Godot or anything, but there's a considerable cast of characters for what amounts to forty minutes of actual running time.

Of course, I'm being disingenuous; clearly I hoped that I'd be the audience for Wild Cardz, since I bought it knowing what I was getting into and having read some less than glowing reviews.  The thing is, it sounded like exactly the sort of absurd and convoluted nonsense that's been known to keep me amused when actual quality was off the table: a world themed around games, in which the heroines are based on suites of cards and the antagonists are giant chess pieces?  Sure, I'll give that a go.  Which makes it all the more disappointing that the whole card theme thing goes nowhere and does nothing; of the four protagonists, Jo Diamonds kinda has a diamond-shaped force field when she pulls off her respective superpower, and we get some weaponised playing cards - which seems a weird abuse of something you've based your entire culture around! - but that's about it.  I don't know that taking such an absurd gimmick to its logical conclusions, whatever those might be, would actually help matters, but still I felt a little cheated.

Elsewhere, the music is excitable and the animation is perfectly fine, but unable to salvage some of the more violently horrible character designs I've ever seen.  The box art isn't, as I'd hoped, a grotesque misrepresentation: that's how the gang appear all the time.  Nor do they look better in motion, and they certainly don't look better for the animators' attempts to persuade that anything going on here is remotely sexy.  I find it hard to imagine even the most Pavlovianally horny teenage boy getting turned on here; really, lifelong celibacy is a likelier outcome.  As with so much anime from the back end of the nineties, the tiny skirts and occasional nudity feel like they're there to fulfill some sort of quota, not because anyone was especially invested.

And here I am, talking like I didn't enjoy Wild Cardz, when actually it kept me moderately diverted!  It's crap, it really is, but it's enthusiastically delivered crap, and it's a bit mad in a way that's hard to hate.  Jo Diamonds, as the only character who gets the least bit of development, is fun enough to be around, and the action - which is basically all of the OVA - is well delivered, even when it's being mind-bogglingly strange on a fundamental level.  But none of these are arguments for watching it, of course.  In truth, the only reason I'd recommend you actually try and hunt down a copy of Wild Cardz is if you have some weird sexual obsession that combines women and playing cards - and hey, I just answered my opening question!  But now I wish I hadn't.

Shinesman, 1996, dir: Shin'ya Sadamitsu

Shinesman (or The Special Duty Combat Unit Shinesman if you're not into the whole brevity thing) is a parody of Power Rangers and its ilk.  This is apparent from the cover on downwards, even if, like me, you're not familiar with Super Sentai (the Japanese franchise that started it all, if Wikipedia serves me rightly) or any of its copious offspring.  I mean, I've never seen a single episode of Power Rangers, but I get the basics: five people - four male and one female seems traditional - with colour-coded uniforms and special powers and moves, fight with villains, monsters, and robots.  It's a straightforward-enough formula, and like any straightforward formula that's been done to death and then some, it's ripe for pastiche.

Except, while I'm conscious that I opened by calling Shinesman a parody, in truth that isn't precisely its game.  Its goal is certainly about comedy, but its main joke is an odd one, and basically boils down to this: what if our five costumed heroes were salarymen and a bit boring?  Honestly, I don't know how to explain it better than that, and I certainly can't put into words why it works.  Yet it does, if sporadically; every time the five announce their identities, which are also their colours and include such thrilling shades as moss green, grey, and salmon pink, I chuckled a bit.  It's very Japanese humour, I suppose, though a surprisingly good dub makes solid efforts at converting the material for an American audience without chucking the baby out with the bathwater.  But the core boils down to, "Boy, superheroes and salarymen sure aren't a lot like each other!"  And while the West has an inordinate number of the former, the latter is a concept that only translates so far.

Am I over-analysing?  I think I'm over-analysing.  What matters, surely, is that Shinesman is both fun and funny, and altogether quite pleasant to be around.  The animation is resolutely so-so, though the backgrounds are rather nice and the opening and closing themes are pretty hummable.  But all that's truly important is that you'll get some laughs out of its hour-long running time.  It's not exactly comedy gold, it's a bit too laid back for that, but on the other hand I found myself smiling over some of its gags afterwards, as their subtleties sunk in.  Like everything here, with the clear exception of Wild Cardz, I wish there was more: its two episodes wrap up well enough, but there are enough loose plot threads left hanging that it's obvious more was planned.  It's hard to seriously recommend an hour-long release that's funny but not that funny when finding a copy is nigh-on impossible, but hey, that's your problem, not mine!  Because Shinesman is definitely worth a look.

-oOo-

Is this the first of these posts without a clear recommendation?  I think it might be.  And the irony is that there was nothing here I didn't enjoy - even if in the case of Wild Cardz it was a somewhat strained and baffled form of enjoyment.  Shinesman and Burn Up! are certainly both worth a look if you should happen to stumble across them at a reasonable price, which perhaps isn't dreadfully likely in the case of the former given how severely out of print it is.

Ah me, this is an exercise in futility, isn't it?  But a fun one!



[Other posts in this series: Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29Part 30Part 31Part 32, Part 33]




Tuesday, 3 April 2018

Eastercon 2018

The more Conventions I attend, the less it seems I have to say; after all, these things mostly offer much the same brand of entertainment, and the differences come down to ever-more-subtle gradations of content and quality.  This is particularly true of Eastercon, which has evolved a great deal in the few years I've been attending, from something quite specific (and specifically SF-oriented) to a more general, jack-of-all-trades role that places it somewhere between the sprawling excess of Nine Worlds and the homelier comforts of the average Fantasycon.  If the negative there is a certain lack of character, the positive is definitely that, when an Eastercon succeeds in its goal of being all things to all people - or at least comes as close as is reasonably achievable for a low-cost Con - the results can be pretty marvelous.  And so it went this year, which was clearly the result of a great many good decisions being made.

Like Harrogate; Harrogate is such a nice place, and such a perfect choice of location.  The Majestic had its ups and downs as a venue: it was seriously spacious and lived up to its name in terms of sheer grandeur, but the bar service was horrific and having the bar area itself split was frustrating; I feel like I missed an awful lot of people I wanted to say hi to simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong times.  Yet the minor deficiencies of the hotel never seemed to matter much because Harrogate town centre was all of about five minutes away, and it was brilliant to be able to nip out to a fantastic restaurant or do a bit of shopping or just get some fresh air.  This is something that goes wrong too often - I'm looking at you, next year's Eastercon that's back at bloody Heathrow! - and it's crucial: force people to spend every minute in your convention hotel and they'll notice its flaws a good deal more than if you give them somewhere enticing to rove around.

And yes, I realise I'm biased because it's on my doorstep, but still.

Really, the only other vital thing I ask for is varied programming, and this year's Eastercon got that right, too.  There wasn't actually a ton of stuff I wanted to attend, but that's me being a grump, not the convention being rubbish.  Had I wanted to dip into the content more, there was hardly ever a point where I'd have been stuck with nothing besides that most overused of programming items, the panel.  There were talks, there was live music, there was a disco that actually wasn't too horrible, there was croquet (which got rained off, but hey) and there was a board games room, though I failed to persuade anyone to go there and play Galaxy Trucker with me.  Again, though, not the organisers' fault; and the point is, they'd gone to a heck of a lot of trouble to make sure that, whoever you were, there was something to keep you amused.  There was a ton of programming for kids, a lot going on for the old-school Eastercon SF crowd, and no end of more general options, but it never felt like ticking boxes, as Nine Worlds sometimes has to me.

This is all very general, isn't it?  Truthfully, that's because my personal experiences are a bit of a haze; with three novel deadlines converging and a few not-so-pleasant personal bits and bobs going down, the truth is that I wasn't altogether in the right head space for conventioneering.  And I guess drinking enough wine to drown a small whale may not have helped, though it certainly seemed to be helping at the time!  But both of my panels went really well; the one on gaming was a ton of fun, because who wouldn't want to talk about gaming for an hour?  And moderating on the topic of The Boundaries of Horror to a large and quite crowded room was a good deal less intimidating than it might have been thanks to some excellent panelists.  (I know it's wrong to single anyone out when everyone was so good, but Ramsey Campell's awesome knowledge of the genre and sheer enthusiasm were a real pleasure to be around.)  That aside, my highlight was probably a delightfully nerdy hour and a bit watching Matt "D'Israeli" Brooker get terribly excited about Ray Harryhausen and the subject of physical special effects in general - a subject ridiculously close to my heart, and especially appropriate because I capped off the weekend by going to see Isle of Dogs.  Which is pretty much a masterpiece, by the way, and likely to be one of the absolute highlights of the year, so you might want to go see it too.

To close ... well, like I said, I was a bit strung out, so it meant all the more that I got to hang out with some really wonderful people, including old friends, new acquaintances, and a few in-betweeners.  Like so many of us, I suppose - and at the risk of straying into Sean Penn-levels of alliteration - it's the conversations and company that keep me coming back to conventions.  I won't list everyone, because that would require a lot of remembering and I'd never get it right anyway, but thanks to everybody who hung out with me and kept me amused.  And thanks to the organisers of what was one of the very best Eastercons, not to mention one of the better conventions, I've been to.

Wednesday, 28 March 2018

My Eastercon 2018 Schedule

How can it be nearly time for Eastercon already?  Oh well!  At least it's practically on my doorstep for a change, in the delightful town of Harrogate, which is probably the Paris of the north or something.  Honestly, I'd check, but I'm supposed to moderating a panel on Saturday and I haven't got a thing prepared - not to mention the imminent novel deadline and the copy-edits and approximately a-million-and-a-half other things - so I really ought to be concentrating on all that instead of singing the praises of Harrogate, lovely as it surely is.  With that out of the way, here's what I'm up to:

Games: Story Versus Mechanics
30th March 2018, Friday 16:00 - 17:15, Syndicate 334 (Majestic Hotel)
Boardgames (and RPGs) all have mechanics, and most of them have a story or theme. Which matters more to players' enjoyment? When do they work well together? What happens when are they at cross purposes?
With: John Coxon, Kieron Gillen, Adrian Tchaikovsky, Esther MacCallum-Stewart (M), David Tallerman 
 The Boundaries of Horror
31st March 2018, Saturday 11:00 - 12:00, Reading Room (Majestic Hotel)
What makes a story horror? How far can creators stretch the definition? Are there stories presented as horror that aren't? Our panel analyses the genre.
With: Ramsey Campbell, The Fossil, David Tallerman (M), Woadwarrior, Neil Williamson
In case you missed it, I'm moderating The Boundaries of Horror, so please do come to that one.  And why not prepare a few questions in advance?  If I don't get my act together soon, I'll need all the help I can get!

Saturday, 24 March 2018

Breaking Into the Glass Slipper

It's been an age since I last did a live interview, and they're a ton of fun, so when Charlotte Bond asked me if I'd like to sit down with her and discuss the Black River Chronicles and any other stuff that came to mind, I jumped at the opportunity.  For those who've never encountered it, Breaking the Glass Slipper, the podcast that Charlotte co-hosts with novelist Lucy Hounsom and writer and critic Megan Leigh, has become a terrific resource over the last few months for digging into the feminist issues surrounding genre fiction in a fun, accessible, smart, and somewhat nerdy fashion.

With all of that said, probably neither of us had guessed what a multitude of weird tangents would end up being covered under "any other stuff"!  In fairness, I'm probably to blame; I mean, the lengthy digression about my cross-dressing habits in the Dark Souls games was definitely my fault, and so was the excitable speculation about a live-action Lilo and Stitch movie.  All told, though, for a half hour interview, I think we managed to touch on a few really intriguing subjects - which, needless to say, had more to do with Charlotte's questions than my answers.

In amid the ramblings about Disney movies and video games, the biggest pleasure was getting to discuss the Black River Chronicles in real detail for the first time.  If you're a fan of the books, there are lots of juicy details here, including a discussion of how the series first began and debate over the crucial issue of why we haven't seen any romance blossoming yet.  And towards the end we got onto the topic of The Bad Neighbour, my imminent crime debut from Flame Tree Publishing, which was also really exciting for me, since I've basically said nothing anywhere about that one until now.

But why am I writing about what I said in an interview when I can just post a link?  This is pointless even by my standards!  So I'll shut up now and simply suggest that you go have a listen here.  And while you're at it, why not try a few more episodes?  Judging by the ones I've sampled, Breaking the Glass Slipper is a reliably excellent listen.

Monday, 19 March 2018

Film Ramble: Drowning in Nineties Anime, Pt. 33

It's about time for a themed post!  I mean, a theme beyond "dodgy, old-school anime, with occasionally a bit of really good old-school anime."  So this time around, in a blog series titled "Drowning in nineties anime," I'm going to be focusing on - er - eighties anime.

Look, no-one ever said that themes have to make sense.

So here, for your eighties-tastic delectation, we have: The HumanoidOdin: Photon Space Sailer StarlightHarmagedon and They Were Eleven....

The Humanoid, 1986, dir: Shin'ichi Masaki

My original intention with these posts was to only review releases that were relatively available in the UK, since that seemed a sensible way to limit the scope of what could easily turn into a rabbit hole with no bottom.  Needless to say, here on review number a hundred and twenty eight, it's a decision I've failed spectacularly to stick to.  So I'm pleased to announce that The Humanoid can be bought very cheaply indeed.  There even seem to be brand new copies kicking about for next to nothing.

Here ends the good news.  Because there's a reason everyone is trying urgently to ditch their stock of this thing, and that reason is that it sucks.  And, look, I don't say that lightly; it's not like I've set a precedent for high standards here.  So when I say that The Humanoid is dreadful in that specific way where you can't figure out why anyone involved would have thought for an instant that it was worth creating, and judging by the available evidence none of them did, you know I mean it.  No sneaky flairs of animation genius here, no flashes of directorial imagination, no redemptively brilliant theme tune, oh no.  This is the work of people doing their absolute best to provide the minimum of artistry possible while still keeping their jobs.

Then again, I suppose it would be more tragic if anyone had lavished their best efforts on The Humanoid.  And while I sort of feel like I should explain the plot here, I really don't know that I can; or maybe the problem is simply that if I were to try and wrap up all the narrative threads and characters into a cohesive paragraph, I'd give the impression of something a lot more sophisticated than the forty-five minutes of drudgery on offer.  Basically: there are some humans cohabiting with some aliens who look like humans, and one of the aliens is trying to start up a crashed spaceship, for reasons that don't entirely make sense, and since doing so will likely blow up the planet and kill everyone (see what I mean?) the humans are forced to intervene, with the aid of android Antoinette, who's learned some lessons about nature and love along the line and so is willing to put herself in grave danger on the behalf of these squishy meat-sacks.

Even in 1986, I refuse to believe that a single ingredient there was fresh, and the fact that Antoinette's design is evidently ripped off silent masterpiece Metropolis is good evidence on that count.  Honestly, I can't imagine a version of The Humanoid that would be particularly good; even the most lavish animation couldn't make its ginned-up crisis or its tale of yet another robot discovering the virtues of human emotion into something wildly inspired.  For that matter, I suppose it's just about possible to conceive of a worse version than the one we got: one where the last five minutes weren't sort of okay, relatively speaking, or that didn't have the sense to stop while it was behind.  And the fact that one of the main characters has no character traits other than a truly devoted obsession with coffee is worth a smile, I guess.  But if we're honest, not so much so that I don't want the forty-five minutes of my life that I spent watching this sloppily made, derivative crap back.

Odin: Photon Space Sailer Starlight, 1985, dir: Takeshi Shirato, Toshio Masuda

From the opening scene of Odin: Photon Space Sailer Starlight, I was convinced that I'd be on its wavelength: when an animated movie clocking in at well over two hours feels that the best way to introduce itself is with a lengthy prologue summarising the history of nautical exploration, you can at least suppose that ambition isn't lacking.  And here's a thing about nautical exploration: it takes place on the sea, and there's no environment in animation more difficult or costly to depict well.  Odin's hugely unnecessary prologue does very well indeed.  Not only is it showing off, it's showing off with some of the finest craftsmanship the medium had to offer in the far-gone year of 1985.

To put that (and indeed this whole post) in perspective: in 1985, Disney would put out the decidedly pre-Renaissance The Black Cauldron, and Studio Ghibli, who'd be founded that very February, were still a year off releasing Laputa, the film that would not so much set the bar for subsequent Japanese animation as kick it into the stratosphere.  Which is to say that, if Odin wasn't quite cutting edge for its time, it was damn near, if only because the edge wasn't half so sharp as it would soon become.  At any rate, though the character designs have dated, and certain motions, particularly those of people, are frequently stiff, its for the most part an impressive piece of work, with many a scene that genuinely dazzles.  Rare is the shot that looks like it was picked because it would be the cheapest solution; indeed, more frequent are those that are vastly more complex than they need to be.

Which is all to say that production values aren't at issue here.  The soundtrack is a thing of wondrousness too, at least if your tastes extend to baffling Japanese soft metal and prog rock; and really, if they don't then what's wrong with you?  Odin feels in every way like the work of people with resources, talent, and enthusiasm to spare.  How else would you explain that insane running time?  You don't make an anime film that's two hours and twenty minutes long if you're hedging your bets.  And you certainly don't let scenes run on with such giddy abandon, even when all that's happening is, for example, the crew of your implausible space galleon prepping for their first test flight.  There aren't many true cinematic epics in anime, not when every second of film is so damn expensive, but this is one of them.

Therefore it's all the more baffling that Odin: Photon Space Sailer Starlight is built on such flimsy foundations.  The story is trivial and rambling, the characters are ridiculous and inconsistent, and scene-to-scene continuity and internal logic are negligible; until way past the halfway point, it's difficult to even guess at where the movie imagines it's going.  Moreover, it gets less interesting the more the narrative comes into focus: early scenes that are effectively just flashy world-building have more pull than later massive battles, because the stakes aren't there.  Oh, and it doesn't end, because the creators were so confident of success that they planned to spread their derivative tale over two sequels that would never materialise.

There's probably a lesson to be had there.

Odin is basically the Star Trek: The Motion Picture of pre-twentieth century anime, with all that entails.  Wildly overlong, too invested in a story that isn't really that interesting, and slow as all hell, it's nevertheless undeniably fantastic in its finest moments, some of which are also its slowest and least consequential.  With that in mind, I can only imagine what the savagely cut version that was initially released in the US must have been like; I watched enough to know that the nautical opening was vanished in its entirety, and a version of Odin that focused on narrative rather than flashy, extravagant nonsense is truly a depressing notion.  In its full cut, it's a colossal mess, but a mess that's weirdly absorbing in the way that only ambitious misfires can be.  So if you plan to seek it out - and you should, I think - that's definitely the version to go for.

Harmagedon, 1983, dir: Rintaro

Harmagedon has a reputation for two things: firstly, for being a major landmark in the career of director Rintaro and a hugely significant chunk of anime history that would give Katsuhiro Otomo his first break in anime, and so lead directly to Akira and the revolutionising of how the medium was perceived both within and without Japan - and secondly, for being totally rubbish.

The first point is difficult to argue, especially given how many of Harmagedon's themes would reappear in Otomo's own masterwork in greatly more polished form.  And the simple fact that anyone would spend significant amounts of money on an anime film in excess of two hours aimed at at an adult audience was no small thing back in 1983; had the movie failed, we'd no doubt be looking today at a very different anime landscape.

As for the second: well, Harmagedon certainly isn't perfect, that's for sure.  Adapted from the first three volumes of a series of novels, it tells a snip of a story at exorbitant length.  An ancient evil that's destroyed endless galaxies is heading towards Earth, and a handful of psychics from across the globe must awaken their latent abilities to confront the threat with - um, the power of love, or something.  There are seven of them, I think, but it's hard to keep track because the film only really cares about a couple: Princess Luna of Transylvania (which the film, in all seriousness, seems to think is an independent country) and Japanese teen Azuma, who as we meet him is in the process of failing to make his school's baseball team and about to be dumped by his girlfriend for being overly fixated on his sister.  I kid you not.

They're both awful characters - Azuma more so than Luna, but it's harder to take her seriously, since she's the princess of a goddamn nonexistent country - and yet there's infinitely worse to come.  Around the midway point, for example, we'll meet the somewhat legendary Sonny Lynx, who's the only black character and therefore a roller-skating gangbanger dressed in a manner that I don't even have the words to describe, because presumably neither Otomo or Rintaro had ever met any actual black people in their entire lives.  But really, to pick on one ethnic clich√© is to ignore how the film trades in nothing else.  There's the Native American character, the Indian character, the Chinese character, and they are uniformly the exact stereotypes you'd expect if you were asked to imagine the most deeply tacky of stereotypes.

All of this rather scuppers Harmagedon on the macro level, it's true, and these are far from the only storytelling problems.  Rintaro makes the baffling decision, for example, to open by presenting identical information to us in two different ways, even using some of the same footage.  I'm now confirmed in my opinion of him as a director, which is that he's capable of greatness on a scene-by-scene basis but largely hopeless at telling a movie-length story.  However, the flip side of that, and the thing that the detractors appear to ignore, is that individual sequences are flat-out excellent.  Rintaro may not be able to make his hackneyed tale of one-dimensional characters into anything much, but he surely does have visual imagination to spare.

It helps that the animation is mostly spectacular.  And here I really have to differ with some of the film's fervent critics; hate on Harmagedon all you like, but to deny that it looks fantastic is to be deliberately obtuse regarding the state of early eighties animation.  Is it dated?  Of course, it was made six years after bloody Star Wars!  Heck, even Nausica√§ of the Valley of the Wind wasn't a thing in 1983.  But by the standards of the early eighties, and indeed by the standards of the following couple of decades, the attention and level of detail here is exemplary.  Rintaro makes the point in a brief interview snippet included on U.S. Manga Corp's twentieth anniversary DVD release that realistic backgrounds based on real places were an innovation at the time, and knowing that going in is a handy reminder of how impressive those backgrounds are.  However, the character animation is fluid and lifelike too, and the more fantastical elements - like Azuma psychically defending himself with the aid of an entire construction yard, or a giant fireball tearing its way steadily through New York - are quite stunning.

And, I dunno, maybe it's solely because it's frequently very pretty, but I feel like we ought to cut Harmagedon a bit of slack.  It wants to be an epic story of universal love overcoming cosmic darkness, even when it keeps accidentally being casually racist and immensely stupid; it exudes ambition all over the place, and sometimes, if you're willing to exercise a little selective memory, that results in scenes that are pretty damn splendid and images that are pretty damn mind-blowing.  Dramatically its hard to see the film as anything other than a failure, however much you allow for it being over three decades old.  But as a landmark of early anime, it's at least work a look.  Lower your expectations accordingly and you may even find that there's pleasure to be had.

They Were Eleven, 1986, dir's: Satoshi Dezaki, Tsuneo Tominaga

They Were Eleven has one heck of a high concept.  In the far-flung future, a group of space cadets, whittled down from a vast number of applicants to be among the final candidates, face their last test aboard an abandoned interstellar vessel with a decaying orbit that stands to send it dangerously near to the local sun.  They have to survive for the fifty-three days of a single planetary orbit, which means that, though they've never met before, they need to cooperate and learn to trust each other.

There's only one problem: when they arrived there were ten of them and now there are eleven.

I mean, that setup isn't entirely original, sure, but it's awfully strong nevertheless; if it sounds a bit like The Thing in space then it really isn't in practice, and anyway, the Manga the movie was based on predates the Carpenter remake by over half a decade.  They Were Eleven is much more about introducing us to its characters (six of them anyway, the rest get little more than names and a personality trait or two) and then chucking them into increasingly high-pressure situations that are exactly what nobody needs when they're all feeling severely paranoid anyway.

You'd need to go a hell of a way to live up to a concept that potentially great, and They Were Eleven doesn't quite get there; its ending is somewhat weak and too easy in its ultimate resolution.  But there's a lot of good work on the way, aided by a script that does an excellent job of staying one step ahead of the viewer.  A couple of times I thought I'd spotted a plot hole or was worrying over some detail that felt under-explained, and both times the writers were quick to cover their bases.  On top of that, the movie is satisfyingly determined to be a proper piece of science-fiction: there are plenty of intriguing notions bubbling away, and a real sense of a broader universe that we're only seeing snippets of.  There's only so much that can be done in an hour and a half, but at no point does They Were Eleven feel underdeveloped or quick to fall back on tropes.

Perhaps in one aspect, for modern audiences anyway, it might have been better being less ambitious: rather surprisingly for 1986, and indeed for anime, one of the characters is intersex, a fact that becomes increasingly significant as things go on.  I imagine the handling of that particular hot potato was relatively sensitive by mid-eighties standards; viewed through modern eyes, it's more problematic.  My own feeling, much as with Harmagedon, was to appreciate the good intentions while trying not to cringe too much when they went astray.  And the same went for the animation, which is more than solid work for the most part but is dated badly by its character designs.  Dan Oikawa's electronic score has aged relatively well, at least, and its bips and bleeps like the ideal accompaniment for the material.

Often I feel like an apologist for older anime when it comes to plot, an area in which originality rarely seems to have been prized.  By the same measure, if you strip away the bonus points for luscious animation or great music or the sort of high-quality design work that makes so much vintage anime endure, there's little that stands up entirely as a film.  But there's a genuinely good, original, well-told story here, and if if it's possible to imagine an even better version of that story, that's hardly a damning criticism of the one we get.  They Were Eleven has dated in the more than three decades since it was released, because of course it has, but it's still a genuinely novel science-fiction movie, and those are rare enough as to be worth hunting for.

-oOo-

Reading back over this one, I feel like I've spent a lot of energy being negative about things that I pretty much loved.  I mean, not The Humanoid, obviously, that was a train wreck, and of the sort where one train was carrying toxic waste and the other was full of nuns and orphans.  Please don't every watch The Humanoid, I have it on good evidence that every time you do, a kitten explodes somewhere.

But Harmagedon and Odin: Photon Space Sailer Starlight, as much as I'd feel bad to wholly recommend them to other human beings, I really did enjoy.  They feel like time capsules of an age before anyone had decided what anime could or couldn't do and be, and there's something awfully thrilling about that.  No-one told Rintaro or Takeshi Shirato or Toshio Masuda that you couldn't blow huge bundles of cash on making gorgeous-but-derivative animated genre movies for adults.  And if the results were failed experiments by any number of metrics, they're still awfully special viewed through the lens of the subsequent three decades.

Oh, and They Were Eleven is just genuinely good.




[Other posts in this series: Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7Part 8Part 9Part 10Part 11Part 12Part 13Part 14Part 15Part 16Part 17Part 18Part 19Part 20Part 21Part 22Part 23Part 24Part 25Part 26Part 27Part 28Part 29Part 30Part 31, Part 32Part 34]

Sunday, 11 March 2018

Black River 3: The First Post

Is it too early to start discussing a book that I only began writing five weeks ago today?  Well, maybe, but I'm over halfway through, I have it planned out to the finish, and anyway, what the heck, right?  I want to talk about the next Black River novel.  I'm already excited about it, and there's no reason I shouldn't try and share some of that excitement!

So here are a few small teasers that I think it's okay for you to know at this early stage.  Rest assured that nothing here will meaningfully spoil your enjoyment of the third book (or even the first or second, if you haven't read those.)  But of course if you really want to come to this second sequel blind then you should probably stop reading right now.

For everyone who's left, here are six insights into what will be coming at the end of 2018:

- This One is Arein's Story

Astute readers may have spotted the fact that, while each of the two books so far has been about Durren, Tia, Hule, and Arein as a party, they did tend to focus in on one character in particular.  In Level One it was Durren; in The Ursvaal Exchange it was Tia.  Well, this time around it's Arein's turn.  And she's in for a rough ride.  You know how Arein's always been a bit scared of her own magic?  Now imagine how she'd feel if a spell ever got really, wildly, disastrously out of control.

- But it's also Pootle's Story, Kind Of

Where Arein goes, Pootle is sure to be following close behind.  And Pootle's a little mysterious; we've never really delved into just what's going on there.  How do observers work?  Why do they work?  Everyone's favourite floating eyeball may not have done much but hang around so far, but it's about to make its presence felt in a major way.

- It's a Dungeon Crawl

At least in part.  I've been intrigued for a long time with the notion of what a dungeon crawl would really be like; in D&D campaigns and video games, you spend days or even weeks underground, and not once does anyone get claustrophobic, or trapped by a cave-in, or stress about lugging a tent around or the practicalities of starting a campfire when you've been under the earth for so long that you barely remember what sunlight looks like.  And since I'm the kind of person who worries unduly about those sorts of practicalities - and since this series could hardly go on forever without some serious time spent in a proper dungeon! - that's a little of what we'll be delving into.

- There's a Scene That's (Loosely!) Based on My D&D Campaign

A small confession: before I began writing the Black River Chronicles, my hands-on experience with D&D extended to one afternoon at the house of a friend of a friend.  And since I insisted on playing as an alcoholic dwarf bodyguard who wouldn't lift a finger unless his client was in danger, it didn't go tremendously well.  But finding myself writing a series that draws from the game so heavily, I felt it was time I gave it a proper go, and I've been with my current group, under the not-so-tender ministrations of dungeon master Jimi Jibodu, for a few months now.  The scene in question was not, however, from Jimi's campaign but from a fill-in session DM'd by another member of the group.  I've modified it heavily, of course, to make sure that it slots comfortably into the book (and to not be a big plagiarist!)  Nevertheless, it's my first instance of D&D life influencing D&D art, and that warrants a place on this list.

- Book Three is Going to be a Bit Longer

Of these points, this is perhaps the one I'm least certain about right now; but midway through the chapter plan, the wordage was already at nearly two thirds of The Ursvaal Exchange's final count.  That doesn't necessarily mean a great deal, since I tend to write verbose first drafts and then hack them up heavily when I return.  Still, I've a feeling that this one might come in around the one hundred thousand words mark, which equates to a couple more chapters than the last.  It's a big, ambitious story, with an awful lot to cover.

- It Actually Already Has a Title

Last but certainly not least ... the third Black River book has a working title, which may or may not end up being the final title.  Currently it's called Eye of the Observer - which might raise some interesting questions for readers who've followed the series so far!

-oOo-

So there we are: a tiny glimpse into what's coming in, oh, about eight months time now.  There's a great deal still to be written, and a vast amount of editing to come once the writing's done, but for all that, it's safe to say that The Black River Chronicles: (maybe!) Eye of the Observer is beginning to come together.  I'm certainly having a ton of fun writing it, which always tends to be a good sign!

Tuesday, 6 March 2018

The Black River Chronicles: The Trailer

A few weeks ago, my good friend Lawrence Axe, who I've known for an embarrassingly long time and who works as a video editor and filmmaker, volunteered to cut together a trailer for the Black River books.  On the one hand, I was excited at the prospect; anything Black River-related tends to get me excited, since not many projects are quite so much fun.  But on the other, I was wary of doing something that might sell the series short; we had limited artwork available and not much (well, not any!) of a budget, so we couldn't exactly go out and hire a bunch of actors and costumers and set designers, awesome though that would have been.

Long story short: I shouldn't have worried so much, and Lawrence is pretty much a genius.  Here's a look at what he cut together:
Cool, right?  I honestly can't stop watching it.  In fact, I'm going to watch it again right now.

By the way ... if you happen to be an author in search of a book trailer, or anyone else who needs a video putting together, then I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that Lawrence (otherwise known as Ody Films) is available for hire.  If you'd like an introduction then drop me a note on my website contact page and I'll pass your details along.